


Anniversary

by Miles Racer Rose (racerose)



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), It- Steven King
Genre: Angst With Bittersweet ending, Canon, Gen, IT Chapter Two Spoilers, M/M, Non Descriptive Death, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 15:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racerose/pseuds/Miles%20Racer%20Rose
Summary: A year after Eddie's death, Richie goes to visit...





	Anniversary

The marble was cold against Richie's hand. Such a difference to the warm one on his back, rubbing soft circle's comfortingly in a way it seemed that only Beverly could do. Weeds had grown over the dirt, dust in the crevices of the engraved name. Richie kneeled down, wiping it with his hand. 

"Sorry, Eddie. I know you would've hated the dust," Richie whispered softly. 

In the collective sadness, it was Bill who spoke up. "I-If he were here, I'm sure h-h-he would've smacked you for letting it get like th-that." He was trying to joke to make Richie feel better, but it fell flat. 

Richie simply nodded in agreement, keeping his hand on the cold marble. 

He was silent as the Losers all gently placed flowers and little gifts on the edge of the headstone, not moving from his place beside it. 

"Richie, you comin'?" Bev asked softly, crouching beside him. "We were thinking about going to get food."

"No, I'm fine," Richie said softly. He shook his head, plastering the smallest smile to pretend to her it was okay. "You guys go ahead, I'm just gonna stay here a while." 

Bev looked at him worriedly a moment before softly nodding, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Call is if you need anything, okay, honey?" 

"Got it." 

He waited til they had all left before he looked up at the headstone again. 

"Hey, Eds..." he said softly. He didn't want to think about the fact that it was an empty grave. That really, Eddie was deep below the ruins of the Neibolt house, lost within the sewers. Not to say he hadn't tried. He'd tried every damn way... but every way to it was just impossible to pass and no amount of digging through rubble helped. "I'm sorry I haven't visited lately. I just-" He let out a sharp breath, "It hurt." 

There was no response from the cold stone. Of course there wasn't. Eddie was gone.

"I can't help but think I could've saved you. I could've seen it. I could've pulled you down... I was right there." Richie's voice broke at the last sentence, and he buried his head in his hands. 

"I loved you, you know," he choked out, trying to rub away tears threatening to spill down. "When we were kids. I always wanted to hold your hand. I fantasized about taking you away from your mom, away from shitty Derry. I wanted to spend forever with you..."

The tears won, spilling hotly down his cheeks as a sob wracked through him, leaving his hands shaking, gripped tight in his hair. "If you were still here, I... I would still love you. It wouldn't matter if you loved me back, because you were my one."

Another bout of sobs, wanting nothing but the teasing touch and brash voice of his old best friend, his first and last love. It didn't come. Because Eddie was gone. 

"B-Bev said- she said it would get easier with time. It's been a year and it still hurts the same, Eddie." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, wiping tears away. "I can't do my shows anymore. The last one, I just broke down on stage and had to be sent home."

He almost laughed. It tasted bitter on his tongue. "Home. I don't have a home. You were the only home I ever had, Eds. I'm... lost without you. I felt it, even when I didn't remember. Like I was missing something big." He gently put his hand on the headstone. "I realized what it was the second I saw you again." Another pause as he bowed his head. "I wish I'd died in there with you... I think a big part of me did."

After another moment of silence, he slowly stood. Finally, he pulled the single short-stemmed rose, red as blood, from his jacket pocket. Gently laying it amongst the other gifts under the name, he said quietly, "I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I hope you have Stan with you to keep you company, and you don't have to worry about anything you did in life... I hope you're waiting for me."

He straightened up, kissing his fingers and gesturing towards the headstone with a heavy heart. Then he turned, and the grave was left alone in its resting place. 

\--------

For Richard Tozier, the years flew too quickly and all too slow. His career had collapsed. He'd lost too much weight by bypassing meals for booze, just trying to feel anything but grief. He knew the others wouldn't say it, but Bev was the only one who held a shred of hope that Richie would get better. She was the only one who checked in regularly anymore. She could tell that his happy "I'm fine, don't worry about me" phone calls were lies. 

It was the fifth anniversary of Eddie's death. The others didn't join him this time. Even through drunken anger, he knew if was because time had healed everyone but him. He was the one stuck in the past. He was the one who'd lost his future. 

"Eddie... You're waiting for me, aren't you, Eds?" Richie cried, collapsed beside the headstone. An empty whiskey bottle sat overturned by his side, another half empty in his hand. "It hurts..." His breath was growing shallower as his heart beat too fast in his chest. He leaned against the stone. It was wet? Oh, so was he. Right, it was raining. 

It was cold, the stone. It felt nice against his too hot skin... The headache was going away, that's nice... 

"Don't call me Eds," an old familiar voice said, like a faint whisper on the breeze. 

"But it's so cute, just like you, Eddie Spaghetti," Richie whispered, keeping his head on the cold marble. 

"That's even worse," it said again, sounding clearer. Just like he remembered it from all those years ago.

Richie laughed softly, weakly, as he realized that he couldn't feel the rain on his skin anymore. 

"You're so dumb," the voice said. "What were you even thinking?"

"I wanted to see you again... I'm sorry. I know you'd be upset. But I missed you so much." The cold marble seemed to disappear from under him. It was too bright suddenly. 

Richie blinked his eyes open, then winked at the bright white around him. Then he saw him. 

Fourteen years old, hair pushed back out of his face, nike shorts and fanny pack. Eddie looked at him sadly for a moment, before he walked forward, holding his hand out. "Come on, Stan's waiting for us, dumbass." 

Richie's breath caught, and through his tears, he faintly could see, as he looked at himself, the old hawaiian shirt that used to be his favorite. His old glasses, too big for his face, and his scrawny, awkward build. The last time he'd been alive. He looked up at Eddie's hand, up to the face he'd loved so much. He took his hand, and as Eddie pulled him up, he flung himself into his arms, spinning the smaller boy around tightly.

Eddie laughed, hugging him back just as tight. Richie stayed there a long moment, holding him, uncaring of the tears running down his face. 

"I'm here, Rich... I'm here." Eddie gently pulled away, brushing the tears from Richie's cheeks, letting his hands rest on his face. "I was the one who shouldn't have turned my back on it."

"You were so brave," Richie said, laughing at his high, prepubescent voice. 

"So were you," Eddie said softly. "And I'm not leaving you again. We're forever, Trashmouth." 

Richie's eyes widened, his lips parting as he realized. Eddie had heard all of his confessions. 

"I wish we could've had your dream," Eddie said, bringing on hand down to take Richie's hand. "Things would've been different. We both could've healed and been happy. But we still have forever, I promise."

Richie couldn't help himself. He did what he had daydreamed about for years. In an instant, his lips had collided with Eddie's. It was sloppy, and he hit their teeth together on accident, but it made Eddie laugh so nothing else mattered but the warmth of Eddie's cheeks under his hands, so different from the grimy cold they had been the last time he touched them. 

"Of course you guys couldn't even wait til we were home," another voice said, in the exact annoyed fondness Richie remembered it to be. 

"Stan the Man!" Richie said, tearing away from Eddie, smiling bright as the sun as he saw his old (other) best friend. 

Eddie all but pushed him over to Stan, who had his arms folded. Richie didn't care, he ran to him and giggled as Stan yelped when his feet left the floor. Well, what could've been the floor. Richie didn't ponder that yet, spinning Stan around in a tight hug. 

"Alright, alright, I get it, put me down," Stan shouted, still trying to sound annoyed as he giggled. 

Richie did so, kissing his cheek happily and hugging into him again. Stan managed to get his arms out from where Richie had trapped them when he hugged him, squeezing Richie back. 

Finally, Richie let go, looking back at Stan, then Eddie, and only then did it sink in. The happy look faded as he blinked, looking around. "I... I just died, didn't I?"

He felt Stan's hand in one hand, Eddie reaching out to hold the other.

"It's not how I would've liked to see you go... sooner too, but," Eddie glanced over at Stan, a mournful look in his big eyes. 

Stan nodded softly, "It hurt to see you like that."

Richie thought for a moment, before nodding softly. "I'd rather be with you. Is it nice there? Whatever this is?"

Both boys lit up with smiles, nodding. "It looks like the clubhouse, but without the dirt and spiders," Eddie said happily.

"And the Quarry," Stan added with a little smile. 

"It was a little lonely with just the two of us-" Eddie started to say.

Stan interrupted with, "But with you here now, it's never gonna be quiet." 

Richie laughed, looking at his lost friends, his heart hurting even as it picked up the broken pieces of itself to fix in the hands of the very ones who'd caused it. Blinking back tears, he smiled. "Then what are we waiting for? Last one in the water blows their mom!"

He laughed as both Eddie and Stan groaned, but followed him, turning into laughs that echoed until they broke the white light, into their clean and beautiful heaven. By the time he hit the water, he felt at peace again.


End file.
